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Chapter One
Sheldon
The sun is shiningagainst the backdrop of a clear blue sky in the city of Manhattan. My partners and I are just coming off a long shift with an overnight flight to Bel Air and back. Another crew is in place, safeguarding the family I’m paid to protect while we take a much-needed couple-hour reprieve.
Nick’s sitting in the passenger seat in the sporty black sedan and spots a brick-fronted coffee shop boasting of homemade Danish. “Right-hand side,” he yells.
“Roger that,” Cole replies, tapping the brake and skillfully veering lanes in the congested New York City traffic before sliding perfectly into the only parking space left on the street.
I laugh under my breath. Nick and Cole are more like family than coworkers, and both clearly need a sugar fix. I should have taken my car to the airstrip and parked, but since I didn’t, I follow these two sugar hounds into the building that smells of freshly made bread and cinnamon.
“Can you order me a large coffee?” I ask, nodding toward the restroom but not waiting for a response before making my way toward the back.
When done, I walk out deep in thought, contemplating the multitude of things that still need to be done to ensure Katarina Prestian is safeguarded when she finally meets her relatives, who just happen to be the most notorious crime family in Italy.
“Give that back!” a female voice huffs.
I look up just in time to avoid being taken out by a furious petite blonde who’s standing between the tables blocking my path. She’s trying to snatch something out of a large, bearded man’s hand and almost backhands me for the second time in the process.
“Whoa, what seems to be the problem?” I ask, grasping her wrist, looking first to her and then to the man still seated at the table.
Neither appears in a hurry to explain. I clear my throat. “I asked a question.”
“I’m so sorry; it’s nothing really,” the woman finally says, but her alabaster skin is dotted pink, closely matching the color of her lips, and her bright violet-blue eyes are fixed intently on the man.
He continues leering at her, holding a card in his hand and turning it over to display a picture of the woman standing next to me. A business card, and now her concern is apparent. “The lady would like her card back.”
The man sits taller in his chair and makes a show of spinning it on the table in front of him before responding. “She dropped it. I picked it up, and now it belongs to me.”
“It most certainly does not!” the blonde huffs.
The man crudely looks her up and down, outwardly ogling her, and it tells me everything he doesn’t need to say. He’s still focused on scaring the lady. I reach over and grab her card off the table.
“What the fuck!” he explodes, almost toppling his chair as he gets up and straightens to his full six-feet-plus height. In his bulky combat boots, he stands nearly eye level with me.
“That doesn’t belong to you!” he jeers.
“The lady doesn’t want you to have it. Why don’t we call it a day?”
He doesn’t even pretend to consider the suggestion. Instead, he takes a hefty swing, but his size doesn’t give him an advantage when it comes to speed. I easily capture his arm, twisting the limb and pushing it upward until he has no choice but to sit where I’m putting him or face a break that won’t quickly heal.
“Fuck! That bitch ain’t worth it!”
I raise his left arm even higher. His mouth clamps down in obvious pain, but to his credit, he doesn’t say another word until I tell him to do precisely that. “Apologize now.”
When he looks at her, there’s an evil glint in his eyes. I reach out with my other hand, restrain his face, and force him to look at no one else but me. “You don’t even glance at the lady. Apologize, and then we are going to call it a day.”
He mumbles under his breath, “Sorry.” It’s about as heartfelt as one would expect from someone forced to give it, but I don’t want him anywhere near this lovely blonde even for another minute.
“Get lost.”
The bearded Neanderthal makes haste, heading for the door. As he reaches it, he slowly turns around as if in slow motion and all for effect, giving the lady one last leer and a creepy exaggerated wink.
She inhales sharply as he walks out the door.
My jaw clenches with aggravation. I turn the business card over in my hand. The salon is right down the street. If he took a good look at it, he knows exactly where to find her. Texting Cole, who’s standing by the door, I watch him pull his phone out and read my sentence telling him to follow the asshole and get his plates. He nods at me, and my attention reverts back to the woman, and her wide, violet-blue eyes search me intently.
“I appreciate your help and am so sorry for all the fuss. I dropped my card on the way to the bathroom, and he took it as an invitation to hit on me. A little crudely, if you know what I mean. I’m Alexis,” she informs me, her blonde curls bobbing as she talks.
